


discard

by swarmsoflizards



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Brain Damage, Developing Relationship, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Traumatic Brain Injury, Writing Exercise, caravan - Freeform, developing Arcade/Courier, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23126440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swarmsoflizards/pseuds/swarmsoflizards
Summary: Willis might have trouble remembering the rules to Caravan, but Arcade's got his back.
Kudos: 12





	discard

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted anything in literally a year, so take this super short piece I wrote in my writing workshop class. I'm working on multiple Really Big Projects, and hopefully I'll post any of them before another year goes by lol.
> 
> This is the first thing I've ever posted with my courier John Willis! He's got a much longer fic in the works to explore his arc and relationship with Arcade, so I won't spoil too much. Suffice to say he's messed up from more than just getting shot in the face, and he's Doing His Best.

They’re both shuffling a deck of cards, sitting across from each other. The new girl, Veronica, has a very practiced air about it, while Willis is struggling to keep his cards in place. At one point he drops a couple face-up and scrambles to stick them back in his deck. When they’re done, they each draw their eight starting cards and set their decks to the side. Veronica takes the first turn. They’re keeping track of their bids on a scrap of paper in the middle for the sake of Willis’ memory.

Arcade zones out pretty quickly. He learned to play Caravan years ago, but it’s never really interested him; once he figured out the dominant strategy he could win against nearly anyone, and he doesn’t have much drive in him to take money from strangers. Dimly he hears Veronica explaining the purpose of a Joker again, and even though he’s staring off at the underpass he can picture Willis with his brow furrowed over his mask. He always makes the same face when he’s trying to remember something. Arcade reflects sometimes at how easily he’s learned to read Willis’ emotions from just the sliver of skin between his bandana and his hairline. If he didn’t know better he’d say that the mask was to hide his expressions, because he’s completely unreadable to anyone who’s not used to him. It’s only when he’s frustrated like this that his eyes and brows are enough to give somebody a clear idea. 

Willis grunts, and Arcade brings his attention back to the picnic table. Veronica just played a King on one of his tens, putting him at thirty-four. Willis stares at it for a long time. “It’s okay,” Veronica says. “See, if you use a Jack there-”

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” Willis says. “Fuck.” He’s squeezing his cards a little bit, enough that they’re bending around his thumbs.

“Okay,” Veronica says. She sits back and lets Willis think about his next move. She’s not special; Willis doesn't let anyone help him with things he feels like he should be able to handle. Apparently, that list has now been increased to include “Caravan,” among such notable entries as “remembering the password to his terminal” and “putting his rifle back together.” They take a couple more turns, but Veronica’s still got him beat on the bid she blocked for him.

Arcade looks at Willis’ hand. He’s got mostly low numbers, including an ace, plus a Queen and Joker. Not bad; actually, it could be enough to win the game. Willis notices him looking and angles his hand to give him a better look. Arcade looks up to see Willis’ good eye staring back at him. Arcade’s glasses are slipping down his nose, but he doesn’t adjust them, not wanting to spook Willis away. Finally he whispers, “What does this card do again?” gesturing to the Joker.

Arcade blinks, pushes up his glasses, and leans in. “You can play it on any card on the table,” he murmurs, “and every card of that number gets discarded except for the one you played it on.”

Willis nods, and then looks down at the table, thinking. Finally, he pulls out the Joker and plays it on one of his eights, discarding two of Veronica’s and the one of his beneath his Kinged ten. Since that subtracts eight from thirty-four… 

“You won,” Veronica says, almost with a question-mark at the end. “Good job.”

Willis doesn’t say anything, only takes the sarsaparilla bottle off to the side that they had bet. He pries off the cap with the corner of the picnic table, and when he lifts his bandana to drink from it, Arcade can see that he’s smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr! https://thomrainierskies.tumblr.com/


End file.
